Just Talking
by riterandreader
Summary: It's not really fluffy. It's sweet though. Takes place after Reunion. Suze doesn't know if Jesse likes her or not. She's feeling very confused. Will a ghost of a nice old lady help her sort out what she's going through or no?
1. Default Chapter

A/N: Okay, this isn't that fluffy, but I think it's sweet. Oh, and it takes place after _Reunion_.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters – Meg Cabot, that wonderful writer we all love owns them. Well, okay, the _only _character _I _own is Barbra McEthlin. Why? Because I invented her. So don't STEAL her!!!! Thank you.

Chapter One:

Okay ... you'd think by now I had given up on Jesse, moved on and met some new guys. How long can a girl just sit and wait for a guy to realize, you know, that they're perfect for each other? Apparently it takes a really, _really_ long time.

Any way, in my state of waiting-for-Jesse-to-realize-he-loves-me and everything, CeeCee, my best friend, and I headed to the beach. Well, it's not like I'm going to sit at home, with the weather in California being what it is reputed it be – which is great, I mean. The weather is gorgeous down here, and people want to take advantage of it as much as possible. Coming from New York, you get to appreciate it being so lovely. For instance, today, the blue of the sky was so dazzling, so bright that it hurt to even look at it for a long time. Though the sun was fiery in the sky; it wasn't hot – not even an uncomfortable warm – that's because the sea-breeze kept everything cool. It was heavenly, and I loved it.

All right, I won't lie. There were some pretty "fit" guys at the beach. I mean, it was so obvious they worked out. Still, none, I noticed, as I looked around, could really hold a candle to Jesse. It was so annoying all right, that my mind just kept drifting over to Jesse the entire time. I mean, why can't I get over him?

At the moment, I was wondering, being a mediator, and seeing ghosts and all that sort of thing, where does Jesse go when he isn't, oh, say, saving me from a psychopathic killer who has a schizophrenic brother that thinks he's a vampire? Or helping me kick ghost-butt when the four RLS Angels, who really weren't so angelic, were trying to kill me – of course they couldn't kill Jesse, because he's dead.

Oh, I forgot to mention that minor detail.

So, really, where _does_ he go?

I guess that CeeCee was trying to tell me something, because all of a sudden she waved her hand in front of my face. "Earth to Simon. Suze, were you paying attention?"

"Uh, sure, yeah, CeeCee." I actually wasn't. But she's my beset friend, so you don't _admit_ things like that.

"So you agree bringing a banana snake constrictor to school would be a bad idea?"  
"What?! What are you -?"

CeeCee looked solemnly at me. "You weren't listening, were you?"  
"Look, CeeCee, I'm sorry. I just had some things I've been thinking about..." I said trailed off, awkwardly. I gave her my apologetic look.

"It's okay," CeeCee nodded good-naturedly. "So Gina arrive safely back?" My friend Gina, from New York, had visited recently, and she had left about a week ago.

"Oh, yeah. She says the plane ride back was okay, but she's still complaining about how gross airline peanuts are."

CeeCee shifted under the umbrella. She was wearing long sleeves, and lots of sunscreen. Being albino, she can't stand being under the sun too much, so while I was tanning, she was just chilling out.

We were staring at the surfers out in the ocean – two of which were my stepbrothers, Dopey and Sleepy, known as Brad and Jake to the rest of the world, who surfing with the rest of their buddies. To almost all females but me, they are considered "hot." Watch them eat at dinner sometime. It's gross. Yeah, then tell me how "hot" they are.

CeeCee, though, likes our friend, Adam, for as long as I've known her. Being new to Carmel, California, and all, it hasn't been very long, but still.

What do you have to do to get a guy to notice you? I mean, it's the question all girls of the world want answered.

Girls like Kelly Prescott, form my school at Junipero Serra Mission Academy, obviously have mastered that art, but people like CeeCee and me? Not as much. Don't get me wrong. We aren't ugly or anything. I've even had a boyfriend or two.

The hard part is when you're trying to get the guy _you _like, to like you back.

That part isn't so easy. Well, normally it isn't so easy. But it's especially harder to get the guy you want. Unless, of course you're Kelly Prescott.

I brought up the subject of Adam. "So, CeeCee, have you talked to Adam lately?" We're his friends, so it's okay to ask. Only CeeCee likes him.

That got CeeCee all sighing exasperatedly. "Men." I understood what she was saying... and I couldn't agree with her more.

That day, I went home to continue working on my homework.

Jesse popped in. I could tell form that stupid cat's happy purr that Jess was here, petting him.

"Hey Jesse."

"Susannah," he said with a smile.

That killed me.

Okay, it was a smile, but, you know, I'm trying not to like him but nothing helps. I mean, not only does Jesse have a totally sexy smile, but abs to die for (pardon the pun).

I mean, what girl wouldn't want to have a hot, dead cowboy haunting her bedroom? Unless the said hot, dead cowboy doesn't like her back.

All right, Jesse likes me. I know that. He's my friend. But, well, he doesn't like me in _that_ way.

He came to borrow another book.

"Knock yourself out," I said, handing him something I got from the library that he asked for.

Back then, in the 1800s, when Jesse was alive, they didn't have TV, so I guess they read a lot. It must have been really boring. Honest. Who could survive with out watching "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" or "Saved by the Bell" reruns? Not me.

After finished my homework, I went out my window and onto the roof, where I usually sit.

Suddenly I noticed that I wasn't alone. There was an old lady next to me. Now you may think that looking, and seeing an old lady on the roof of a house would be a strange sight. Especially if the old lady was giving off her own celestial light. But see, it wasn't a strange sight, because the lady. She was dead.

A/N: Please R & R (oh! And I have chapter two up)...


	2. Advice From Some one Who Understands

A/N: Here's the next part. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters – Meg Cabot, that wonderful writer we all love owns them. Well, okay, the _only _character _I _own is Barbra McEthlin. Why? Because I invented her. So don't STEAL her!!!! Thank you.

Ch. 2

Normal people can't see the dead. With that said, I'm not normal. I'm a mediator.

I see the dead, and usually, it's not for the better. But this old lady was just standing there, and, well, she seemed harmless enough.

"Oh, dear," she said, looking around, and seeing she was on top of roof of an old hotel where travelers came and stayed which is now converted into a house.

"Hello," I waved, to get her attention from down where I was sitting.

She smiled. "Hello, dear. Would you know what I'm doing here?"

"Oh." She seemed so nice. I didn't want to break the news to her very roughly. You know, that she was dead.

"Um," I said, having trouble with this particular case. I mean this lady I was supposed to help move on. "What do you last remember?"

She thought about it. "Well, I was in the hospital for about two weeks already. I was in ICU – Intensive Care Unit – at the time. The doctor started taking me into the emergency room. I was holding Roger's – he's my husband –hand, and they were saying something abut a stroke. And then..."

She fell silent.

"Ma'am," I said, putting my hand gently on her arm. "I'm sorry to say, but you died."

"Oh, dear," she said. And with a last remorseful comment being a quiet, "My poor kids," she went back to her normal, sort of springy way. She then looked up at me and said, "Oh! How rude of me! I'm sorry, I didn't even ask for you name."

I felt weird. No ghost – except for Jesse and stuff – has really asked for my name.

"Uh, Suze. Suze Simon," I said.

She gave me a nice, warm smile, and said, "My name is Barbra. Barbra McEthlin."

Wait a minute! I was supposed to be asking the questions! It was my job as a mediator, you know. Any way, I didn't want to appear to be _unprofessional_ at my job.

"So..." I said after an awkward silence. "Uh, do you know what's keeping you here?" Because you know, ghosts usually have a hunch, or know why they're still here. But either the lady didn't hear me, or purposely ignored me, because she didn't respond. Instead, she continued to look around her.

"What a lovely house," she announced, finally, and said it as if 'that settled that.'

That wasn't normal. Usually the ghost would just sob on my arm, and talk about how unfair it was to die. Etc.

Not knowing what to say, and figuring I should I answer, I said lamely, "Thanks," even though she hadn't said it to be polite or whatever.

I looked about, but Jesse wasn't around to see that we had a spectral visitor. He was gone. Where _does _he go?

The elderly lady got my attention again. "Do you live here?

"Uh, yeah – I mean, yes."

I peered into the window, and looked in my room, to see if Jesse was still in there. The old lady was at my elbow, looking inside with me.

"Hum. Is there someone you're looking for?" she asked. I think she noticed the disappointed look on my face when I found that, yes: Jesse had indeed disappeared yet again. "Is something the matter, sweetheart?"

Don't ask me why I did what I did next. Maybe because it had been a long time since any one had called me, "sweetheart." Or maybe it was because she reminded me of my grandmother, who passed away so long ago. Either way, I felt like I wanted to tell her everything that had happened lately.

And I pretty much did.

I guess being unable to talk about Jesse to any one else, I was holding it all in. The only person who knows about Jesse is Father Dominic, a fellow mediator, and principal of my high school. And it's like I'm going up to him – and he's a _priest_ – and discuss my romantic issues (and lack of thereof) with him. Not.

Well, Barbra took it very well, considering. Seriously, it's not every day where teenagers who see dead people talk to you about their romantic problems about being in love with a ghost of the cowboy who haunts her bedroom. She just sat, and listened attentively, nodding and all.

"... It's not only that Jesse is hot, but he saved my live more times that I can count.

"See, the thing is, even if he does like me – and I'm not even sure of that – well, he is, no offense," I looked at her. "Well, he's dead. So it's not like I could say, 'Oh Mom, meet my boyfriend, Jesse.' My social life is pretty sad as it is, but adding a dead boyfriend? I don't think it'll make me any more popular. Not that I care, but..."

If you ever cried on someone's shoulders, you know that it feels good. Basically I let it all come out: my thoughts, my musing, and mostly my hard concerns.

Barbra just sat there, listening – and so patiently, too – that I just felt sorry for her. This is her time to talk about her issues.

How bad does this look? I bet it looks even worse than the "I'm-not-helping-_her_;" because I was beginning to realize, that _she_ was helping _me._

So, I reluctantly pulled myself together and finished, "So that pretty much ends my list of problems. Pretty tragic..."

"Oh," she gave me that nice smile of hers. "Not so tragic," she said, like she knew something I didn't know. I knew I should get to work, but her comment confused me.

"It appears you have a nice young man who helps you, and is very kind – even if he _isn't _interested. But I highly doubt that." She got this twinkle in my eye. It's like she was laughing at an inside joke.

Okay... "How can you be so sure?" I asked.

"Sweetheart," she placed her hand on my arm. "When you've been around for over 95 years" (I whistled in amazement) "you catch on to a few things."

I nodded like I understood, where in fact, I was very confused.

"Believe me when I tell you, there's nothing there for you to worry about." She winked.

Barbra was just giving me all this advice, but I _still _hadn't helped her. I think I was bordering on rude, so I said, "that you _so _much, but, um, we still don't know why you're here."

"Oh, that," she laughed, and flipped her hand in the air, with a careless way. "It's just that," she leaned over, and whispered into my ear, "It's just that, in the fourth grade, I stole Cindy Brown's barrette, and hid it under the old tree. I never told any one." She smiled, and said, "thank you," before disappearing.

"Thank you," I whispered into the night.

A few minutes later Jesse popped by. I was still sitting like I was when Barbra was here – although my butt was rather sore for the pinecones.

I guess I didn't think about it the time, but I truly lucked out that Jesse wasn't here when I was taking to Barbara about, ahem. Him

But I did tell him about her –well, what part I could, any way.

He smiled when I gloated that I did it all on my own. "I'm not as incompetent as you think I am. Granted, she wasn't a homicidal ghost out to get me, but still."

Jesse smiled is heart-melting smile. "I do not think you're incompetent, Susannah."

We fell into a silence. It was comfortable, just Jesse and me, under the silent star, who, I believed, keep their lips sealed.

After a while, finally I knew it was time for bed, so I crept back inside, and said good night to Jess.

_The End_

A/N: Read and review, pretty please? Please????????


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